Ties and Thigh-Highs
by vengeancedemon
Summary: A hard-working lawyer meets a young schoolgirl on a train, and they soon become close. (Spike/Buffy AU with kink. BDSM warning).
1. Chapter 1

He watched the young girl start to doze off on the train. She looked so peaceful and so lovely. The rumbling of the subway must be soothing to one who was very tired, he thought. He smoothed his tie and sat next to her. He wanted to wake her, to make sure she didn't miss her stop when she came to it, but he couldn't. She looked so beautiful. Her eyelids fluttered as she slept, her chest rising and falling slowly. The train stopped, and he tapped her on the shoulder. He gently shook her, knowing that they did not know each other and it would have been weird to be more forward. "Excuse me," he said gently.

Her eyes fluttered open. She breathed in sharply and started to scoot away from him. "Sorry, I just wanted to know if this was your stop. Didn't want you to miss it." She blinked slowly, taking in what he was saying. His voice was a soft purr with the tinge of an English accent. She looked around, through the windows to see what stop it was. She nodded, standing up and picking up her shoulder back and smoothing her uniform skirt.

"Thank you," she said as she started to walk off the train. He waved after her, taking in the sight of her legs in those thigh-high socks. He shook the thoughts out of his head. She had on a uniform, for crying out loud. She must have been in high school. He waited, deep in thought, for his stop on the route.

Buffy shook her head, finding it hard to believe that she dozed off on the train. At least that nice man woke her up. She remembered very little about him but his bleached blond hair that was combed back neatly. His face was a blur from her sleep-induced haze. She thought that maybe he was attractive, but she couldn't remember. He was probably too old for her anyways.

She stepped into her house and dropped the shoulder bag off by the stairs. "Mom! I'm home!" Her mom came in to greet her and kiss her on the cheek.

The next morning she saw him as she got on the train. He sat there with a book in his lap, a charcoal grey suit on with a red tie. A sleep silver tie pin glinted in the fluorescent lights. She sat on the bench near him, but not too close. She didn't want to make him uncomfortable. He closed the books and smoothed his hair back, putting his right ankle on his left knee. Now that she could get a better view of him, she realized he really was attractive. He was lean and muscular and had this air about him. He seemed predatory and thrilling. She felt a shiver run down her spine. He glanced over at her and smiled.

"Did you make it home alright?" He looked at her in this way that penetrated her defenses. It seemed a little weird of a question, but she shook it off.

"I got home fine, thanks to you. You made sure I woke up." Her hands twisted and gripped at her skirt nervously. He was so damn attractive, and the look he was giving her made her feel so vulnerable. What she didn't realize was that as she was nervously gripping her skirt, she was unconsciously pulling it up. He could see almost the entirety of her leg and he felt something surge in him, some desire to slide his hand up the rest of her skirt. She was so little, probably a good foot shorter than him and much smaller.

"I almost didn't want to wake you. You looked so peaceful." He smoothed his tie. "I'm William." He held out a hand to shake hers. She took it and he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed gently.

"Buffy." She blushed red and didn't know what to do. She wished he'd take those lips and kiss hers. "What are you reading?" She asked, looking at the book closed in his lap curiously. Her eyes drifted across his groin before she looked away, her face growing a darker shade of crimson. She brushed her blonde hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear.

He smiled and flipped through the pages before responding. "Emily Dickinson."

"Huh. A poetry guy. Who'd have thought?"

"Yeah, well. It just feels right, you know? Her poems are broken and without form. They're a thing of beauty." He flipped to a certain page that was dog-eared and worn and held it out to her. "Read this." She leaned over his shoulder, so close to him. She smelled like lavender. He wanted to touch her hair, which looked like pure gold. She was beautiful.

Buffy squinted at the page where his finger pointed.

_If I can stop one heart from breaking,  
I shall not live in vain;  
If I can ease one life the aching,  
Or cool one pain,  
Or help one fainting robin  
Unto his nest again,  
I shall not live in vain._

She breathed in sharply as if she hadn't breathed before. The simplicity and the ease of the words held such sadness in them, but such feeling. She looked up at him, and realized they were so close. It was just a few inches away from her lips to his, and she could close the gap so quickly and easily. His eyes were on her lips, and he looked like he wanted to drink of her, to devour her and engulf her. Desire filled her and she began to lean forward, wanting to feel his lips on her, on her lips and skin and feel the heat burn in her.

He pulled away from her and stood up silently, walking quickly off the train at his stop. She sat back. She couldn't help feeling disappointed and somewhat insulted by the fact that he just left. Did she do something? Did she cross a line when she leaned in to kiss him? She couldn't help but wonder.

A crumpled up scrap of paper was on the seat where he was. She picked it up and flattened out the small scrap and found a phone number on it. She looked at it quizzically and realized it has his name on it. It must be his. She folded it carefully and tucked it into the breast pocket on her blouse. Maybe she would call him later. She hoped he wasn't mad at her for trying to kiss him. She wasn't even sure if he meant to leave this for her. What if he meant to but crumpled it when she leaned in, deciding then that he wasn't going to? Would it be wrong then, to call him?

William rubbed his eyes hard as he sat at his desk. Much to the surprise of many, being a lawyer is a lot of sitting at a desk doing nothing. He found his mind drifting back to Buffy. He wanted to ravish her and to know her better and to be with her. He didn't know what he was going to do. She was so young, just a child basically, but he wanted her anyways. She was beautiful and the look on her face when she read the poetry… he knew it hit her. He knew that she could appreciate the beautiful things he could show her.

He hoped she got the note with his number on it. He hoped she would call his cell at some point that day. This hollow, empty, distracting feeling gnawed at his core, keeping him from concentrating on his work. He wanted to be Spike with her.

Spike was who he was at his core. The rebel, the bad boy. Spike was the part of him that wanted to hurt her and to have her like it. Spike was the part of him that wanted her to belong to him.

He shoved that part of him down. He could not feel that way. She was a child! He couldn't think those things about her. He couldn't.

But he also couldn't help but want her to call.


	2. Chapter 2

"Down on your knees, little girl." He coaxed her down with his hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him, her pigtails caressing her shoulders with ribbons close to her scalp. He couldn't help but think how cute she was, looking up at him like that. Spike's finger wrapped around the ring of the collar that sat on Buffy's neck, hugging her throat gently. He hooked a clip onto the ring, pulling her forward with a chain leash to where she was nuzzling his groin, his cock hard against his pants. "Be a good girl and make Daddy feel good."

"Yes, Daddy," she groaned, undoing his belt and sliding his cock out of his pants. She nuzzled it gently, feeling his hard shaft rub her cheek. His breath caught in his throat and he could feel himself get harder. She was in his control. She was his little girl and she wanted so badly to make him happy. He grabbed both of her pigtails and guided her onto his cock, thrusting deep into her throat until he came.

William lay in his sweat, breathing heavily. He felt disgusting for his fantasy. He stumbled out of bed and into the shower to clean off the mess he had made on himself. Letting the cold water run over him, he leaned against the wall, feeling heavy. What kind of sick fuck wants to fuck his girlfriend like she's his "daughter"? He was a bloody pig, that's what he was.

The idea of Buffy in her thigh-highs, kneeled before him, willing to do whatever he wanted because she was his little girl, turned him on so much. He felt himself get hard again, and he leaned against the wall imagining her again, hating himself for enjoying it so much.

William grabbed Buffy, kissing her hard and pushing her against the wall, hoisting her up onto his waist. She wrapped her long legs around him, hooking her ankles behind him. His lips crushed hers and then found her throat, biting her hard. He trailed his tongue up her neck and brought his teeth down on her earlobe. She gasped in pain and pleasure and arched into him, begging him to hurt her more. She loved this feeling of being owned by him, and wanted more of it. He thrusted into her, his hand finding her throat and cutting off the air as he slammed into her against the wall over and over.

Buffy cried out in ecstasy and withdrew her hand from her undies. She had soaked through them and dripped down her thighs onto her sheets. Sighing, she slid them off and cleaned off her fingers with them. Why was she having these thoughts about him? She had gone to bed early that night, around 8:30, because she couldn't bear to be with her mother any longer. She had to go do something about the thoughts she was having about William.

She rolled over, this empty feeling in her. It was 8:35. It took her five minutes to orgasm. That was a record for her, hell even touching herself at all was something new, something she had never done before. And she was here doing it over someone she didn't know. She grabbed her phone next to her bed and dialed the number, putting it to her ear. It rang twice before he picked up. "Hello?"

She froze and then mentally cursed herself for calling him so late in the evening. "Hi, William?" She imagined punching herself in the face. "It's Buffy."

"Ah, Buffy. How are you doing?"

"I'm pretty good. Hey, I was wondering if you wanted to do something, like get coffee or go see a movie."

"I'm quite busy this week. I'm actually only free right this moment, love."

"Wanna do it now?" She cringed and hoped he wouldn't think she was weird. A long silence caused her heart to flutter and her stomach to twist in nervousness. He wouldn't answer. What the heck was wrong with her? She was a mess. A stupid mess.

"Sure. Meet me at the park on Seventh?"

William sat on the bench, waiting for the beautiful blonde. He decided to don his casual attire, slipping on a black t-shirt, some jeans and some boots, a leather duster hugging his torso. He got lost in his thoughts, thinking about what he would say, how he would act. Would he play it cool or would he be warm and inviting. Would he do the right thing and stop this because she was a child or would he indulge himself in her beauty and her effulgence? He felt her presence next to him on the bench as she sat next to him.

"Hello, William. You look really different out of your work clothes. I like the leather." She smiled warmly at him. She was wearing a sundress, a soft pink color that barely grazed her knees. Her skin was warm and lightly tanned. She radiated excitement and passion, and he wanted to grab her and draw her close. What was the nature of these feelings? Why, although he barely knew her, did he want to be with her so badly? He slid his hand close to hers and grasped her hand in his.

"Would you like a coffee, love? 'Cos the shop's right over that way and I can get one for you."

"It's kinda late now. I want to know about you, though." She leaned in, her cheek on his shoulder. "What's your last name? Where were you born? Where do you work?" She shifted so that her chin was on his shoulder and she was looking up at him. "Tell me about your life." He tucked her hair behind her ear, his icy blue eyes staring straight into her. She got that feeling again, the one of being exposed to him, and she shuddered.

"Are you cold, love?" He shrugged off his leather jacket and slipped it around her shoulders, pulling it tight around her. He liked the way she looked in it. It was like he marked her. He pulled her to him. "My name's William Pratt. Born and raised, London, England. I work as an attorney in town. Putting the big bads behind bars, you know." He caressed her cheek and stroked her hair. "What about you?"

"Buffy Summers, full time student at Sunnydale Prep. I was born in LA. We moved here after mom and dad got divorced." She laid down, putting her head in his lap. This girl was very forward. He urged her up so that he could lean in and kiss her. Her lips were softer than he imagined, like velvet, and he sank into her. Little whimpers and moans came from her, urging more from him. She became aggressively passionate, attempting to pull him on top of her.


	3. Chapter 3

His hand became tangled in her hair and he fought so hard not to climb on top. Her tongue pushed into his mouth, wrestling with his. Electricity surged through him, lighting a fire in him that had not been lit before. He burned for her. He felt able to be devoured, like she craved him, wanted to engulf him. They kissed long and hard before William realized he had to breathe. He broke away from her and panted heavily. As she smoothed her hair and caught her breath, her face flushed a bright red.

"That was—" She wiped her lip gently with her finger, "Wow." He smoothed his shirt out of reflex. "You just…" She giggled lightly. "You just tried to smooth a tie that wasn't there." He looked down at his hand that sat on his stomach in bewilderment. He looked up at her and then down at his hand again, pulling it away from his stomach and, balling it into a fist, hiding it in the space between them.

"I was not!" His accent became considerably less posh when he was caught off guard. "I was just—"

"Oh stop." She leaned on him, getting comfortable. He leaned his head back, staring up at the stars.

Buffy sank into her bed quite late that evening. Trying to find the reason for their chemistry, she came up empty. It was just there. Something primal in her called to him, and she wanted just to give herself up to him. He was so attractive and seemed so kind and understanding. There was something about him though, something that brewed just beneath the surface that was dangerous. She wanted to explore that darkness in him and figure out the essence of it.

She had to get some sleep before the sun came up and she had to go to school. She couldn't though. She wanted to learn more about him. What his favorite food was, what he liked to do in his spare time, what he'd do to her if he got her alone. A surge of excitement bubbled up in her, and she hoped he'd call her tomorrow like he said he would.

"Ooh, Buffy! You look chipper! Who's the new boy? Dish." Buffy's friend Willow flounced up to her, her red hair bouncing around her shoulders with every step. Buffy blushed and avoided eye contact. She couldn't lie to Willow. But she also couldn't tell her about this man, who—oh god, Buffy didn't even know how old he was! She was just too busy making out with him to ask! For all she knew, he could be like, forty or something. He didn't look forty. Oh, god, please don't let him be forty.

"Is there a boy? I wasn't aware." Buffy's face heated up unpleasantly, pretending that there was nothing going on.

"Oh, please. I know something's going on with you. Who is he? Do I know him?" Willow bounded in front of her, stopping her from walking any further. Buffy sighed, and felt a smile creep over her face that she couldn't fight. She felt herself give in. She wanted to tell, she really did. It was eating at her. Finally, she caved.

"His name is William, and no, you don't know him. He's just so—" She struggled to find the right words to describe that primal nature that simmered beneath his cool exterior. She knew it was in there, she just had to find it and draw it out. "Hot." She giggled. Oh no. She was giggling now? What was this guy doing to her? But god, she wanted him. She wanted to entice him, to drive him wild, to bring out what was hiding.

Willow giggled and hooked their arms together. "Tell me all about him." They walked to class together, and Buffy dished, telling her he was a lawyer, that his hair was blonde, and oh god he had this strong jaw that clenched when he was focusing. Buffy didn't tell Willow all the little details, though. The stuff that wasn't physical. The way he looked at her, and the way he seemed to know everything about her just by doing so. The way he was superficially hard and closed off but she knew he was kind deep down somewhere. The way his muscles moved under his skin when he moved, and the way he smoothed his tie when he was thinking or nervous (even when he wasn't wearing a tie). Just him. He was all Buffy could think about that day. She really hoped he would call.

Spike was churning in William, ready to come out. He wanted to do such things to Buffy. He wanted to make her his. There was a small part of him, something deep down that knew that what he wanted was so damn wrong. He couldn't listen to it. The ideas that came to him smothered his conscience, and bloody hell, was he teeming with them. He wondered what Buffy liked. He also wondered what her favorite flowers were. There were two parts of him at war: one, the romantic side that wanted to woo her and to buy her things with the ridiculous amounts of money that he had that he didn't know what to spend on and two, the darker side that wanted to hurt her and make her scream and writhe in pleasure that was tainted with pain.

He had to stop thinking about that. He was in the middle of a grocery run, for fuck's sake. He picked up a bottle of Moscato off the shelf and put it in the basket. He wondered if she liked wine, and then shook his head. She's underage. How would she know what kind of wine she liked?

Snapping out of his thoughts, he realized he ended up in the flower section. Hell, he'd buy them anyways. He grabbed a single, blood red rose and rolled it between his fingers, looking at it from all angles and put it in the basket.

Buffy made a mad dash for the phone when it rang that evening. "Hello?" She asked, trying to control her breathing. She felt like a cocker spaniel that was about to pee itself, she was so excited. _Please be him, please be him, please be him._ She put her free hand on her chest and pulled the receiver away from her mouth so that he wouldn't hear her panting into it.

"Buffy? It's William. I was wondering if you'd join me for dinner tonight."

She had gotten her breathing under control but her heart was racing. "I'd love to. Where are we going?"

"I was thinking a picnic under the stars. You don't mind do you?"

"Not at all. Meet in the park?"

"Actually, I have another idea.


	4. Chapter 4

Buffy waited outside her door for William to pick her up. She was getting impatient, smoothing her hair and her dress and resisting the urge to pick at her freshly painted nails. She went with something she hoped was sexy, a little black number with a peter pan collar and a high waist and hem, her long legs exposed up to her mid-thigh. She wore short red heels and painted her nails red. She remembered that red tie he wore and thought he might like her wearing this.

He pulled up on a motorcycle, his leather jacket flapping behind him. She bounced up and over to him, straddling the seat as he handed a helmet to her. Her skirt rode up and her heat pressed to the back of him, he realized as he felt his pants tighten. "Put this on, love. Can't have an accident happening."

"But what if I get helmet hair?" She asked, pouting.

"You'll still look bloody gorgeous. Put on the helmet." His voice was soft and gentle but persistent. It made her flush red as she put it on. "Hold on tight, love." He revved the engine and pushed off the bike.

They drove on for a while before pulling up and stopping before a clearing. It was a ledge overlooking Sunnydale, with no one around for miles and the stars clearer here than in town. Waiting for them was a cooler and a bucket with what appeared to be a bottle of wine sitting atop a blanket on the grass. She pulled her helmet off and got off the bike after William did, but not before he caught a flash of her undies. They were red like her nails, and he shuddered slightly, blushing.

He led her over to the blanket and began pulling food out of the cooler. It was hot, actually, kept in the cooler to keep the heat in. "Did you make this?" She looked at all of it laid out with a bewildered look on her face. He nodded, smiling, pulling out a container of fresh strawberries out of another compartment. Uncorking the wine, he poured it into two glasses. "I can't—" She started, but he cut her off by shushing her.

"It's just a glass of wine. Harmless. If you don't want it, I won't force you though." He seemed tender, affectionate. She bit into a strawberry and closed her eyes. A teeny moan slipped out, and when she realized it had her eyes snapped open and she covered her mouth in embarrassment. God, those lips. He wanted to kiss them. Or put something else between them. She was so erotic, her body lean and strong and her innocent movements probably done with less innocent intentions.

Her skirt was so short, he just wanted to—stop that! He mentally scolded himself. He had to stop. Their relationship was still so new and fresh, he couldn't be thinking about that. His thoughts were interrupted as Buffy kisses his lips so softly it was almost as if nothing were there. Instinctively, he returned the kiss and leaned into her.

She fell backwards, pulling him on top of her. What was happening? Why was this moving so fast? His heart raced. As they fell, he knocked over one of the wine glasses. His hands—what was he supposed to do with his hands? He settled for placing his palms flat on either side of her, deepening the kiss. She ground up against his hips before he realized that he ended up between her legs. He felt as if he were on fire. There was so much passion in this kiss, in her, it was burning him up. He wanted her, wanted to be inside her, wanted to own her.

Something about this felt so damn right, Buffy realized. Kissing him, his hips pressed against the insides of her thighs, she felt like whatever was missing in her was gone. She was so glad she kissed him. William broke the kiss.

"Is this… are you sure this is okay?" His eyebrows furrowed.

"Shh," she said, kissing him again, "Less talking." Their kisses became urgent, and Spike was nudging his way into the forefront of William's mind. "I've wanted this since I saw you on the train."

That was all Spike needed. He grabbed both of Buffy's wrists and pinned them above her head, his kisses falling to her neck. Slightly shocked by this sudden aggressiveness, a moan slipped from Buffy's lips. His hips ground against hers, her moans fueling the fire in him. He easily overpowered her, his hard cock threatening the crotch of his pants and pressing against her heat.

The beginning of a word threatened her lips, and he stopped, using all his willpower to pull away. "What's that love? Where you trying to say something?" Upon realizing that the words had actually started to come out of her mouth, Buffy blushed, her eyes widening. He coaxed her chin up to look straight at him, not letting her turn her head. The vibe coming off of him had changed, something dark had opened up. Just like she wanted.

"Umm… do you think you could b-bite me?" She stammered, her face getting hotter by the second. A pang went straight to his groin and his vigor was renewed. He shoved his weight back on her wrists and god, there was nowhere else to go without being inside her. He nuzzled her neck gently, a sweet contrast to the hard grinding of their hips. His teeth grazed gently before he sunk them in hard, moving one of his hands off her wrists to palm the mound between her legs. The pain of the bite mixed with the ecstasy of the feel of his hand was so perfect. Buffy's cries filled the air, and she couldn't take the teasing anymore. "Please… William," she panted, "Please."

He pulled away and stared her straight in the eye, his face solemn and his teeth gritted in a mischievous smirk. "You can call me Spike." He slid her panties to the side and toyed with her clit, barely caressing at first. Slowly, the pressure began to grow, driving her wild and closer to the edge. "So what is it, girl? Do you like to be hurt, is that it?" Her breathing became labored and she was finding it harder to listen to him. She hesitated, but nodded at his question. "How about this?" He grabbed her clit and pinched it hard, causing her to draw in breath with a hiss in pain. As he let go, a moan came from her and she nodded again.

"See, I think you know what you're doing. I think you've done this before." His hand moved away from her sensitive spot and ran over her thigh. She was trembling. Aww. Poor girl. Actually? He didn't feel one bit bad for her. "What do you think?" He dug his nails into her thigh hard, loving the look of beautiful pain that came over her face and the smell of her excitement as her legs spread expectantly.

"I haven't! I just… have fantasies." This piqued his curiosity and he let go of her thigh and wrists. He took a single finger and started it at the base of her jaw. He ever so softly dragged it down her neck and over her collar bone, heading lower with a quick swirl around her nipple and then caressed her stomach.

"Why don't you tell me about these fantasies of yours, love?" He loved seeing her like this. It was like his fantasies, but bloody hell, way better. Her eyes fluttered shut at the sensation of him caressing her like they hadn't just been shoved against each other desperately moments before. She panted heavily, aching for him to touch her there, just a little lower, come on, just a little— he stopped right above her clit, his finger hovering, just barely touching her skin.

"I-I can't." She flushed, her hand instinctively going to cover the bottom half of her face in embarrassment. He leaned down and brushed his lips to hers gently.

"Why not, love?"

"Because they're bad, and you might get grossed out by me."

"Give it a shot, I bet mine are worse, pet." He chuckled and raised an eyebrow.

"Oh? What are yours?" She ran a hand up his shirt and felt the hard muscles in his stomach and holy crap he has these muscle lines that run from his hips straight to his—oh man is he hard. She could see his cock pressing furiously against his pants, straining them. That can't be comfortable. She reached to undo the button on them, but he stopped her.

"Hey! I asked first. So why don't you tell me?" He ran that finger down right next to the opening. He was so close, and he knew that she wanted him to be inside her. She was soaking the panties and the slickness was dripping down onto the blanket underneath them.

"Not right now, please," she begged. She didn't know if she wanted him to know yet. He might think his are bad but he probably has no idea. Thrusting her hips down, trying to impale herself on his finger, she huffed in frustration when he pulled away. "God, please, William!"

Sliding his finger back to her clit, he grabbed it and pulled on it hard. "You like this though, right pet?" She nodded, begging for more attention to her sensitive spot. He made sure to move the skirt up on her hips to be out of the way before drawing his hand back and slapping down hard on her mound. She cried out in pain, and asked for another. God, her begging for him to hurt her was causing his cock to throb. He wanted her to work for it.

"Why don't you come 'ere and earn it, baby girl?" Sitting back, he leaned on his palm for support, pushing his hips forward suggestively. He seemed like an entirely different person. Like a predator. Buffy sat up eagerly, her hands shaking as she undid his pants button, sliding his pants down enough to free his cock from them.

"Yes, sir!" She groaned, kissing the head of his manhood gently. His eyes widened. She called him 'sir'. It was good, but it wasn't her calling him 'Daddy'. God, he wanted to hear that word from her mouth. He didn't think she was all that innocent if she knew about this kind of stuff. He guided her chin up to look him in the eye.

"Call me Daddy, pet." A noticeable shudder ran through her, and the look in her eyes was pure lust. He smirked, knowing that saying that turned her on even more. Maybe she would like the kind of thing he liked. She ran her tongue up the underside of the shaft before speaking.

"Yes, Daddy."

"Good girl." He moved her hair out of the way and held it there so he could watch her suck him off. Her lips suctioned too hard at first, probably from inexperience, but with some gentle coaxing he had her smoothly gliding his cock in and out of her mouth, gently sucking, her hand pumping what she could not fit in her mouth. "Oh, good girl!" He groaned, throwing his head back and relishing the feel of her on him. God, her lips and tongue were so soft and hot and wet. He felt himself about to come already, and he didn't want to yet. "Hold on, love." He pulled her off, despite her whining. Wait… did she actually like giving him head? A pang shot through his groin as he realized yes. "Lay on your back. That's it." He guided her backwards and kissed her, his hand gently pressing between her legs.

"Wi—Daddy, please. I want you inside me." She was so soaked. He brought his hand down hard on her clit with a smack, causing her to hiss and then moan seductively. It was like it wasn't even pain to her, that it hurt a little but translated directly to pleasure. His finger pressed against her entrance, toying lightly, bringing forth indecipherable murmurs from her lips, nonsense sounds that seemed like an attempt to say something, probably to beg him to fuck her.


End file.
